Impacto de inserción al programa (IDIP)

Thanaweya-aama, as explained in more detail in Chapter 2, is considered by students, parents and educators as a significant benchmark. Thanaweya-aama students consider the three-year period of their secondary school to be a very tough one. It starts immediately on the completion of their compulsory basic education at the age of fourteen. At such an early age, young people are obliged to make some difficult decisions about their future. They choose to go for the challenge of thanaweya-aama, which would lead them to higher education rather than joining a secondary vocational school, which would be the end of their educational ambition. Soon, towards the end of grade 10 and moving on to grade 11, they have to take another decision: between studying arts or science. It is a decision that will affect their area of study at university. In addition, when starting grade 11, they start to prepare for the exam at the end of each of the eleventh and twelfth grades. Thanaweya-aama students and their families are known for being always overwhelmed by studying and exam pressures and going through periods of depression and frustration. Other families in the neighbourhood sympathize with the families who have young people at the thanaweya-aama stage and always express the wish that the latter will pass through such a hard period successfully. Among the many criticisms of the way the government handles the dilemma of thanaweya-

aama, are accusations that the political regime intentionally maintains this system in order to keep young people busy and pressured all the time, thereby ensuring they do not become involved in any political activism.

During my field work, a major topic of young people’s narratives, given their status as thanaweya-aama students, revolved around aspirations for the future and the fear of failure. Ahmed was an 11th grade student in the mixed experimental language school. He was from an educated family (both his parents are university graduates) and lived in the Saqr Qurish area, which is adjacent to the Maadi privileged neighbourhood. As explained before, families who send children to such experimental language schools were among those willing to invest more money in order to gain an education service that was of a better quality than the regular state education. However, despite the promise that students enrolled in such experimental schools would receive a better quality education, through discussions these students repeated the same complaints and frustrations about the schooling and exams system.

Ahmed: Thinking of exams makes me feel very depressed. I am afraid of failing my exams and then failing to go to the college I want. Why have they decided to arrange exams in such way that despite all our efforts and our families' sacrifices over the three years of thanaweya-aama in studying and tutoring classes, all of it is reduced to achieving in exams. It's not fair that only my scores in exams will determine my future. I can't even think about the college of my dreams because it all depends on my scores. I don't study or go to private tutoring to learn but rather to prepare for exams. Failure is not about not passing exams but mainly about failing to get the required scores. You have asked us before if we practise or do anything else with our time besides being a student. Actually, we can't afford to do anything else with our time other than attending school and private tuition, and study.

Ahmed voiced the fears, frustrations, and sense of boredom of many thanaweya- aama students. For young people, passing from thanaweya-aama to college life was not just a step in their academic life but rather a big challenge through which they broke the vicious circle and state of boredom they lived in, and which would certainly have an impact on their future. For the three year period of thanaweya- aama, young people had only one duty, which was to study for exams that would

determine their future. According to Schielke (2008), rural Egyptian "young men do not attribute boredom to saturation by media, consumption, and a search for spectacular experience as some Western voices do (e.g., Klapp1986: 117-129). Rural boredom is primarily framed as deprivation, not saturation" (Schielke 2008: 256). While very busy with studying, informal urban life for thanaweya-aama young people like Ahmed was on the one hand tense, due to the burden of the responsibility to succeed and fear of failing, and on the other hand boring due to repetition and frustration. Ahmed's response to my question about what thanaweya-aama students did with their time besides studying confirms the capacity to aim for more, and the awareness that there are alternatives to the monotony of the everyday schedule and the on-going state of tension. Such contradictory and hybrid experiences of tension and boredom manifest the extent to which such experiences were connected to "aspiration and a progressive modality of time" (Schielke 2008: 257).

Amina, at the time, was a 16 year old 11th grader at the girls’ school. She was an outspoken and bright young woman, who lived in Dar-elsalam area with her family. Her father was a carpenter, and her mother worked in a factory in the neighbourhood to support the family. Amina had a twin sister who left school and was getting ready for marriage. Her older brother passed away two years ago and she had another brother who was 10 years old:

Amina: I think I need a psychiatrist. MF: why?

Amina: I am in a very bad mood and feel very pressured and unable to study. I am afraid of the unknown and what might happen all of a sudden and change my life. I can't afford to fail. My biggest fear is to fail thanaweya-aama because of the crisis in my family.

MF: What's happening with your family?

Amina: My parents got divorced last week. He (referring to her father) left home two months ago. Last Thursday I was at a private lesson when he called me and my sister who was with her fiancé and asked us to come home and

told us that he had divorced our mother. He is 56 years old and is getting married to a woman who is 27. She has never been married before. I wonder what makes a girl, who has never married before, marry a 56 year old man. She told him: I am afraid of your daughters. I am very attached to my youngest brother Mohamed. I told him we are not afraid of your new wife, but I am worried about Mohamed and that the new wife would mistreat him. He wants to bring her to live with us. I am in thanaweya-aama and my sister is getting married soon. I won’t allow my mother to serve his new wife and I am scared that his new wife may start to ask me to leave my studying to take care of the household chores. Things are very stressful at home. My mother knew that the divorce was coming sooner or later. Actually she asked for the divorce, and because of that, he wanted her to give up all her rights and entitlements. She refused. He wanted to take all our furniture for his new house. She refused that too. He has beaten my mother for that. He has taken her bedroom furniture for his new wife. He still sometimes helps with the fees for my private lessons. Now after the divorce I am afraid that he will stop any financial support for my tutoring classes and my higher education if I pass the thanaweya-aama exams. He (still referring to her father) has three children from a previous marriage and none of them went to school. He was very happy when my sister dropped out of school and he is not interested that I finish thanaweya-aama and go to college. He kept telling me and my sister that we've got no future in education. My mother works hard to support us and my sister's marriage. I want to pass my exams and go to college because this is the only way to support my mother and brother financially in the future. If I fail my exams and lose my chance to go to college, particularly after my parents' divorce, there will be a crisis. I am sure that my mother will insist that I get married very soon. Not having older brothers and after my father has left home, she will insist that I get married.

Both Ahmed and Amina dreamed about passing their thanaweya-aama exams and reaching the college they wanted. While surviving thanaweya-aama and starting college life was a break–through for Ahmed, it was crucial for Amina in coping with her family crisis and as the only way for social mobility. For Amina, surviving thanaweya-aama and finishing college would allow her to support her family, so they could move up and away from what she currently saw as a crisis situation. Such modest ambition in Amina's case was “inherently paired with despair and frustration because practical circumstances make it difficult or impossible to realize one's ambitions” (Schielke 2009:172). Amina brought gender and class aspects to the understanding of young people's negotiations of thanaweya-aama challenges by giving a voice to young women coming from urban poor families. Amina, while

feeling sorry for her mother, was worried about how her father's new marriage would affect the financial support for her tutoring. For Amina, failing thanaweya- aama would mean disappointing her mother and most probably being obliged to accept an early marriage. She was well aware that she was being subjected, like her sister, to attempts at control over her sexuality through early marriage. The only way out for her was to succeed in obtaining the scores that would qualify her for college. Tension and boredom in Amina's case were paired, like that of the Rabi Das young women in West Bengal, India (Ganguly-Scrase 2007), with the circumstances and disadvantages of the life of the “urban poor”.

Karim, at the time, was an 11th grade student in the Don Bosco Technical Institute located in Shubra, a lower middle class neighbourhood in northern Cairo. Karim lived in the Al-Daher area which is another lower middle class neighbourhood located in the middle of Cairo, and his father worked as a driver in a private company. Karim is one of the young people I had met in Tahrir.

Karim: I was in a state school before joining Don Bosco. I joined this school to escape thanaweya-aama with all its tension. We study Electricity, Maths, Physics, Social Studies, Italian and Arabic. The study in the school is all in Italian. Don Bosco is a sort of private vocational high school that can lead to university education. It qualifies me to go to the Faculty of Engineering if I get high scores. The degree is also accredited in Italy. In order to join the school I had to go through a number of admission tests. In my school there is no private tuition and the teacher has to do his job. If he doesn’t, I have the right to complain and the school admin is responsible for taking action. After the revolution, the school disciplinary system became stricter. We have two sections, Mechanical and Electricity. I decided to study electricity because it opens more job opportunities in the future.

I am truly proud to be at Don Bosco but my biggest fears are about the fact that the education authorities recognize Don Bosco as another vocational high school. As you may know, such vocational high schools are known for being horrible. There is news that the government will ban school-leavers of vocational education from joining the School of Engineering. The government claim for such upcoming policies is that the degree of the vocational school doesn't qualify students with credentials equal to the thanaweya-aama certificate. My school is not a normal vocational school and we are way more qualified than state thanaweya-aama students to join the Faculty of Engineering. Such a decision would mean ruining my dreams and those of

many others and then we can't go on to higher education simply because the School of Engineering is our only option.

I am not worried about finding a job because school-leavers of Don Bosco are known in the market and can find a job. I am just worried that I can’t go to university. I may have to go to Italy for my higher education. There is an Italian University here in Egypt but it’s too expensive for me. I don’t mind if people say that I am a school-leaver of a vocational education but we are perceived by the government as lower quality school-leavers.

Karim was not a typical thanaweya-aama student. He and his family had chosen the private vocational school with the promise of no private tuition, a better schooling system, a guaranteed place in the college, and a better chance for a place in the job market. However, with the government's expected restrictions on allowing school- leavers of vocational education to join the School of Engineering, Karim and other Don Bosco students feared that their dreams were being compromised.

Young people were also worried about university studies and what exactly to expect as university students and whether they would have a fair chance to succeed. Ahmed, Marwan, and Khaled, at the time, were 11th grade thanaweya-aama students at the boy’s school. They showed up at the school together twice a week. They also went together for private lessons in all five subjects for the 11th grade. The three friends came from educated families, and all lived in the Al-Basatin area. Ahmed’s father was an accountant and worked for the government. Marwan’s father was an agronomist, also in the government. Khaled’s father was an engineer and worked for a private company. At the time of talking to them, Ahmed and Marwan had not made up their minds about their future studies; however, Khaled wanted to study Engineering.

Ahmed: I am very frustrated (mohbat) because of this school MF: What do you mean by frustrated?

Ahmed: Well, first I have to waste my time and come, and now even more with the new Minster, as they want us to come every day. As you can see, coming to this school is a complete waste of time. We do almost nothing all the time. If a teacher shows up at the class he shouts and curses all the time. Well, there are just a few good teachers, but students will not give them the

chance to teach. As a student I have no rights in the school. We are being treated very badly.

MF: Have you made up your minds about your future college studies?

Marwan: No, I haven’t decided yet. Actually, it won’t make any difference what I decide. You know, in the first place what we learn at school is useless. The evidence is that most university graduates don’t find a job. Even if I find a job, how much money I will make? Very little.

Ahmed: The studying we do here at school and then at the college is not enough for a real job and a good income. So what we end up with is a certificate that we hang on the wall. Useless, right?

MF: What do you think can be done about this?

Khaled: As students we can’t do anything. We have no time to think or do anything other than being a thanaweya-aama student. But those in charge have to find solutions to improve the education system. They need to study examples in other countries in Europe, the USA and Japan and learn what they did with their education systems. Teachers’ salaries here are very low. All those who go for a teaching job, they do it because they didn’t find a better job. They need to learn what other countries do to prepare youth our age and older to learn skills needed for the market.

Ahmed: The private universities the government have allowed in the last years are creating inequalities between thanaweya-aama leavers.

MF: Ahmed, what do you mean by creating inequalities?

Ahmed: Yes, let's assume that Khaled (his friend) achieves lower scores than me. He still can find a place at the college he aspires to, as long as his family can afford the fees of the private university, while I can't because my family can’t afford the expensive fees. This is simply due to the fact that the private universities' admission system is not the same as the one for the state universities.

The government of Egypt during Nasser's time made the promise to make higher education free for all Egyptians. That was the case until ten years ago when the government started to allow business men to establish private universities. By 2010, there were more than 30 private universities and higher education institutes, and the number was growing, serving thousands of young people coming from families capable of affording the fees of private higher education.

Young people's narratives about their fears of failing to join the college they wanted, raise critical questions about the official educational discourse which, while emphasising a “social contract based on democracy, freedom, and social justice” (MOE: 2007), fails to support the most modest ambitions of the young generations. In fact, it forces them into a vicious cycle of despair and frustration. Young people's experiences with thanaweya-aama, while blended with ambition for college studying, are full of risks, uncertainties, and fears of failure. The narratives of young people revealed the extent to which they perceived passing the thanaweya-aama bottle neck as constituting their educational cultural capital (Bourdieu 1977, Bourdieu and Passeron 1977). In the meantime, young people's narratives also revealed the extent to which they were aware of how the educational system was